The Good , The Bad and the really ugly.......

I use to use this blog to get rid of all my negative thoughts. It seems when they were put down on the screen they left my mind. It was my way of dealing with them. I know some of the thoughts were not sane but the only way I could work through them is to get them out and read them, run them through again and again. I haven't been doing this lately, somewhat because of the way people read and use the things I write against me, also because of time constraints. I believe I was healthier when I was doing this.

I want to tell you about my day, yesterday. I woke up late because I haven't been sleeping as well as I should be. I quit taking my pills that were helping me sleep because they were working to well and I was always tired. So now I struggle the other way. I don't know which is worse, not sleeping or sleeping too much. Any way, because I slept too long the kids were late for school. Everyone is angry on the ride to school. We drive past Loughlin's grave. I noticed that someone had put new things on it. My mind drifted. The sounds are all around me but I remember Loughlin, him smiling, laughing. The kids are asking me questions but I am not able to answer them. On my way home I pass his grave again. I want to stop but I don't think I could walk that far out of my car. I keep driving, stop at the mailbox because I didn't yesterday. There are two letters there for Loughlin, colleges wanting him to apply. I have received plenty of these. I set them aside until I could throw them away. When I walk in the house, I know I have so much to do but it will just have to wait until tomorrow. Phone calls from the school start from my kids, missing picture envelopes, athletic clothes for the pictures. I am still a little dazed from the nightmare at 4 am. The accident all over again, there is Loughlin laying there then some how Rhiannon is laying next to him. Both of them dying within my reach but there is nothing I can do to stop it. The time slows, I stumble through the rest of the hours until I need to pick up the kids. The mail is there again. I grab it on the way to the school. There is a package there addressed to Loughlin. It says Happy 18th Birthday, Welcome to manhood. The bitter irony is that is a free razor. I think of what a razor can do, in this mind of mine that hasn't stopped all day, hasn't stopped thinking of my dead son. A razor cuts and you bleed and it hurts just like seeing this has done to my soul. The phone rings and my mom is on the other end. She begins to tell me about things down there but my mind is occupied with the razor, manhood, 18. I tell her and I cry. I don't like crying to anyone but Harlen. It shows my weakness. I don't want anyone in my house because it is a mess, like my life. I am weak. I should be able after 3 years to handle this, handle my life, but I can't.

5 days ago though we had a good day. Good things happened to and for all of my babies. I thought wow can it really be like this again? But I couldn't stay there, I tried. I tried so hard. I am trying to take the good that happens and dwell on it but the guilt is so strong. I still just want him back.